Simple
by outtabreath
Summary: My attempt at post-R&R. Written over the summer. JJ all the way.


**Author's Note: **Again, a big shout-out to my #1 beta, Moosie MC. You're the best, babe. Sorry about the World Series.

**A/N 2**: This is pretty much the way I wrote it. Any OOC moments are mine and mine alone. I am not a big Rory or Jason fan and their quick exits were actually fun to write.

**A/N 3:** There are no spoilers in this piece if you've watched through the end of S4.

**Disclaimer:** I own only the extra five pounds of Thanksgiving goodness that is currently resting around my middle. Amy and company are welcome to every ounce of it.

**Simple**

Neither Rory nor Lorelai could stomach sleeping in the house, so they returned to the Dragonfly. Neither spoke as they walked. Lorelai was staring at her feet, putting one foot in front of the other and wishing with every single step that things could be simple and easy; she wanted everything to be the way it had been at the beginning of the night. She stumbled on a rock and Rory didn't even turn her head. Lorelai sighed and kept thinking, finally stumbling over the one thing she had not even thought about since seeing Dean come out of Rory's room.

Luke. Luke had kissed her, and she had kissed him. Would she want that changed, too? She wasn't sure. It had felt good and scary, but it was, at its heart, just another complication in a life that was, suddenly, extremely complex and messy.

They arrived back at the inn without Lorelai reaching any conclusions. She watched Rory wearily climb the stairs to their room. There was no way she was going to sleep in the same bed as her daughter tonight; some things just could not be borne. She idly toyed with the idea of sleeping in her parents' abandoned room, but that was a little too much, as well. Finally, she decided to sit in the lobby until she could think more clearly.

Luke was already there, fast asleep in one of the wingback chairs by the fire. She sat in its twin and stared at him, frowning and musing. She replayed the kisses, the feelings of wonder and surprise and trepidation. How she had gone from "Luke is kissing me," to "I'm kissing Luke," to "OH GOD." Almost unwillingly, she relived the feelings and the pressure and the heat and the passion and...

Jason hung his head over the back of the chair, "where have you been?" he demanded. "I've been looking for you for hours."

She jerked back from him and muffled her cry of surprise. She didn't want to wake Luke, especially with Jason still around. A fist fight was the last thing she needed on this never-ending night. She rose to her feet, shushing him violently. Grabbing his arm, she pulled him to the entrance. She maneuvered him onto the porch and whispered, "Jason. Its over. I'm sorry, but it is. That isn't going to change. You're a great guy and you're going to meet someone who will make you happy, but that isn't me. My heart isn't in it. Now, you need to leave. I can't have you disturbing my guests."

"You can't have me disturbing _him_," he said angrily, jerking his arm to point towards Luke.

"No. I can't. Not Luke, not any of the guests," she said. "I won't. Leave. I mean it, or I'll call the Police. End of story." She closed the door in his face and spun to the lobby. Luke had slept through the whole thing. Lorelai took a deep breath and walked back to him. She sat herself again in the chair next to his and watched the fire play across his face as she let herself sink into the blessed oblivion of sleep where she didn't have to think anymore.

Someone was jerking her arm and calling her name. That woke her up. Sookie was standing over her, looking very disconcerted. She was in the middle of a sentence, "...and you're not even dressed...." Lorelai forced herself to open her eyes and focus. She was in the Dragonfly...then the night flooded back in a single overwhelming surge. Rory...Dean...Jason...Luke. Kisses. Oh Boy.

And now it was morning and she had guests to attend to. She stood and a blanket dropped off her lap; she moved her focus to the chair beside hers. Empty. Sookie was still talking and, with effort, she was able to ignore the chair where Luke had been sleeping the last time she had been awake. She rested her hands on Sookie's shoulders to stem the tide of words. "Sookie. I'm not awake yet. What time is it?"

"6:30."

"Oh God. I'm not even dressed yet."

"Exactly," Sookie affirmed.

"Give me fifteen minutes," Lorelai said, then tried to move, her feet tangled in the blanket and she stumbled and flailed for a moment before she savagely kicked it away so she could run up the stairs. She passed room 7 and ruthlessly squelched the insane desire to stop and knock and see Luke; she ruthlessly quelled the voices clamoring for attention - questioning her desires and wishes. Too soon, she was at room 6. Rory. Okay, no time to deal with that problem, either. First things first. Guests first. Daughters and men second right now.

Rory was fast asleep in the bed. Lorelai bit back the urge to wake her up and yell at her and hug her, or both. In fifteen minutes, Lorelai was able to wash important body parts, pin her hair up and change her clothes. She left Rory sleeping. In the end, she had caved and had pulled the blanket up under her daughter's chin and smoothed her daughter's bangs away from her eyes. Rory looked five; things had been simple when Rory was five. Lorelai stood caught in the moment, in the hope that she could figure everything out and learn to deal with things the way they were, not with how she wanted them to be.

Lorelai headed back downstairs where people were beginning to assemble for breakfast. Her first stop was the dining room; everything looked well in hand. She made a quick pass through the lobby, noticing with relief that Sookie had removed the blanket from the floor, on the way to the main desk to insure that all was well there. It wasn't. The key for room number 7 was hanging neatly on its hook.

"When did Luke leave?" she questioned Michel, who was hovering at the desk like a demented John Cleese.

"I don't know," he snapped. "The key was hanging there when I got here this morning. You were sleeping. In the lobby."

Lorelai regarded him steadily. Usually, bantering with Michel was one of her favorite pastimes; today, she was in no mood. "Okay," she said finally, reaching out to take the key off its hook. Breakfast was under control and she could disappear for a few minutes.

Room 7. She had overseen the decoration of the room, knew what it looked like, knew every wallpaper fold and paint dab, every pillow and blanket and flower. She stood outside the door for a good two minutes before finally deciding to open it. She knew Luke wasn't in there, but he had been. He had sat in the room, had stood in it, had touched things in the room. He had changed clothes in this room. He'd been naked - or almost naked - in this room. Oh boy, indeed.

She fit the key in the lock, turned it and swung the door open. The room was neat. She stood in the open doorway marveling at how tidy he had left the room. The bed was made, every single decoration was in its place. The smart part of her brain told her that he had probably not been interested in all of the little decorative touches in the room. He had probably looked through the directory, had flipped channels on the TV; then, he'd changed for dinner. Instantly, she was flooded with images. Luke in the brown sweater and black pants she had bought him a million years ago, looking unbelievably gorgeous. Luke smiling at her over salad, yelling at her in the foyer, kissing her on the porch. "Stop it," she said firmly; belatedly realizing that the door was still wide open and anyone passing by would see her standing in the doorway of an empty room, talking to herself. She stepped in the room and closed the door. Took a deep breath. There were hints of Luke smell in here. Not really strong; he hadn't imprinted the room like he had the diner and her house and her. Involuntarily her hands went to her face. Nope, her morning ablutions had washed away the traces of scent. "STOP IT," she said savagely to herself. This was stupid. This was crazy. This was scary and right and this path led to madness.

This was Luke.

She cast her eyes about desperately, trying to find something - anything - to divert her attention - trying to interrupt this dangerous train of thought.

Then her eyes fell on the chair in the corner and she almost toppled over. The blanket that should have been draped decoratively on the chair was gone. She knew better than to look for it. It was the blanket that had fallen unheeded off of her when she got up this morning; the blanket she had kicked away; the blanket Sookie had put somewhere. The blanket Luke had used to cover her up in the very early hours of this morning as she sat fast asleep downstairs.

She started to hyperventilate. She wanted to run to him, she wanted to run away from him. She wanted to stay in this room and never leave. She wanted to change her name and move to a cave. She wanted to talk to Rory. But she couldn't. She couldn't do any of those things. She had to leave this room and go downstairs and be professional. She had to get through the rest of this day. Then she could go home. And deal with the rest of her life.

"I've changed my mind," she said to the room. "I want to be a nun."

Too late.

In room 6, Rory was still asleep. Lorelai left a note for her, inviting her to eat breakfast downstairs, where breakfast continued. Lorelai pasted on a smile and moved throughout her friends and guests. Suggesting horse rides and walks through the woods. Babette and Miss Patty watched her warily. Lorelai was convinced that they had heard the battle between she and Luke last night; that they had heard the silence after the battle. The whole inn had to have heard Kirk's night terror. No one knew about Dean and Rory. Nope, she got to shoulder that burden on her own.

She wanted Luke. The realization pierced through her. She wanted to tell him everything about Rory and she wanted him to say the right things and make it all better.

She wanted him to hug her and rub her back and share the pain.

She wanted him to disappear off the face of the Earth so she didn't have to deal with the way she was feeling about him.

She walked into Derek; she had never seen him - had been so deep in her thoughts that she was completely unaware of his presence. "Sorry," she mumbled.

"Are you okay?" he asked, though the tone of his voice led her to believe that he knew the answer to the question.

"Still debatable," she sighed and wove her way to the kitchen. She lurched to the coffee and practically drank from the pot. Sookie was bustling about, getting the lunch prep underway.

"Are you okay, honey?" she questioned.

Lorelai stared at her for a minute. Nothing was okay, least of all her, but there was no way she was going to start discussing that right now; so, Lorelai lied. "I just didn't get much sleep last night."

Sookie was too busy to argue with her and Lorelai floated back out to the lobby. Rory was walking down the stairs looking like someone had run over her with a bus. They looked at each other, unsure of where to begin. Lorelai opened her mouth to speak, but Rory actually formed words first.

"I'm going to Europe with Grandma."

Lorelai blinked at her, took a deep breath and said, "maybe that would be for the best."

"Fine," her daughter said. She lurched forward on unsteady feet and hugged her. It felt weird, almost like she wasn't Rory anymore. Lorelai hugged back, trying to shake the feeling that she was slipping away even as she held onto her.

Rory stepped away from her mother. "I'm going to eat breakfast and pack and call Grandma."

"Got your whole day planned out, huh?"

"I had to start somewhere."

Rory followed her plan. She left the inn within an hour. Lorelai stayed, trying to keep awake and oriented. The phone rang and she answered it, made reservations, answered questions, said good bye to people, thought about Luke and Rory and fought the urge to run away to Hawaii or Tahiti or the moon.

Then it was 6. She hadn't eaten lunch or dinner, had drank too much coffee and was starting to vibrate when Luke walked into the lobby. All day she had thought about him, had wondered where he had gone and what she would do when she saw him again. She had never answered any of her questions.

Then he walked in and she realized that nothing could have prepared her for this moment. He was back in his jeans and flannel and baseball cap. Had he always been this gorgeous?

Stupid question.

She tried desperately to find a way to get out without him seeing her. She tried desperately to keep herself from vaulting over the desk and throwing herself on top of him.

He located her instantly and smiled and walked towards her. He was steady on his feet and he looked relaxed and comfortable and she cursed him. She felt ready to topple over and shoot out of her skin.

"Ready?" he said.

Ready for what? Ready to kiss again, get married, have sex, run away, never speak to each other again? "Huh?' she said. Ah, yes the famous Lorelai Victoria Gilmore wit. Renowned the world over.

He leaned his head closer to hers. She could see his lips. Luke's lips. She knew how they felt on hers now; she couldn't forget it. Oh God. This would never work. She was watching his lips, marking their movement. Movement. He was speaking. She pulled her attention to his words. Yeah, that would help.

She caught the word "movies" and remembered. An eon ago, he had asked her to the movies on Sunday. Now, it was Sunday. That Sunday. He was here to pick her up for the movies. They had a date. He was here to pick her up for a date. He wanted to know if she was ready to leave the relative safety and sanity of the Dragonfly for their movie date.

Well, she damn well wasn't ready.

Five minutes later, he was opening the door of his truck for her. She climbed into the cab and told herself to breathe. After all, this was only Luke. A man. She knew how to handle - and mishandle - men.

Then he was sitting beside her and he smiled over at her and she got a rush of Luke scent and she had to sit on her hands so she didn't grab him and kiss him silly or slap him or push him down and climb on top of him right in front of the inn.

"You look..." he began.

"What?" she demanded.

"I don't know," he paused and appraised her, "startled," he finally concluded.

Startled. What a great word. She had been startled for over twenty-four hours now. It must be a new world record. She was startled at how seemingly everyone she knew had suddenly had personality transplants and she was the sole person who could remember how things had been before. Sane. Things had been sane. She had been sane. Well, more sane. But that was before. Before her parents suddenly decided to let the whole world know that, maybe, their marriage was over. Before Rory suddenly decided to lose her virginity to Lindsey's Dean. Before Luke had kissed her.

Before she had kissed Luke.

Oh God. Of all the unbelievable occurrences of the last twenty-four hours, that was the most unbelievable. She and Luke had kissed. And it had been very, very good.

"Lorelai?" his voice came through the fog. He sounded worried, and the tone tore at her heart. How had this happened? When had the world turned on its axis and shifted her ordered chaos into just chaos?

"I'm fine," she said. Her voice was wavering and she was worried that she was going to cry. Luke hated it when she cried. He didn't know what to do. She stared at him. He had shaved and she could see the lines of his jaw. Nice, strong lines. Nice, dependable Luke who made her coffee and burgers and loaned her money and fixed her house for her. Nice, adorable, sexy, terrifying Luke who wanted to take her to see a movie when he didn't like movies because she liked movies. Sexy, scary, unfamiliar Luke who had brought her flowers and danced with her and kissed her. "I'm fine," she said, not sure if she had already said it.

Okay," he said, in that infuriating Luke tone that meant he didn't buy it. He started the car and she exhaled, the breath lost in the roar of the engine turning over. He put the truck in gear and pulled down the driveway.

Lorelai stared fixedly at the road, marveling at the familiarity of it. Things should look different. How was it possible that they didn't? The world should be altered to fit how she felt inside.

"We don't have to do this," Luke said suddenly.

Lorelai swung her head to look at him. His jaw was set and his eyes were open wide. He looked like he was breathing slowly and deliberately. Again, her heart lurched. She didn't want him to get hurt. Not Luke. And she would hurt him. That's just how she was.

"Okay," she said quietly. She really, really wanted to cry. "Can you take me home?"

Luke exhaled and she realized that he had been hoping for another answer. She wanted to give him that answer. She wanted to be the woman who could give him the answers he wanted and deserved. She wanted that so much it hurt. She wanted lots of things. She wanted for things to be simple and easy again. She wanted Rory to have not slept with Dean and she wanted Rory to not be growing up and moving on and separating from her. She wanted her parents to be different. She wanted to be different.

She wanted Luke.

She wanted Luke very, very much. Beyond reason and fear and hope, she wanted him. She wanted him to put his hands on her hips and pull her into a kiss again. She wanted him to pull her through her insecurity and terror and despair and loss into his certainty and hope and fearlessness. She wanted to believe that it could happen, that it could be enough and that it could last.

She realized with a start that he had stopped the truck and was staring at her. She blinked stupidly and saw that he had brought her home. Like she had requested. Nice, Lorelai. The guy brings you flowers when he's never done that for anyone. He dances with you, even though he doesn't like to dance. He wants to take you to the movies even though he isn't a movie guy. And he brings you home when you ask him to. And what do you do? Zone out on him, fixate on all the ways that this won't work and all the mistakes you've ever made and how scared of everything you are right now. Real nice, Lorelai. Real nice.

"You're home," he pointed out, rather unnecessarily.

Lorelai filled her lungs with oxygen and met Luke's eyes. "I'm sorry," she began. "This has been a big disaster, huh?"

He shrugged, his eyes completely agreeing with her assessment. She could tell by the rigidity of his posture that he was really nervous about what she was going to say; so was she, frankly. This was uncharted territory. Luke Land.

"Last night," she began, ignoring the way his shoulders tightened and his breathing hitched, "I didn't come back because I had to take care of something with Rory," she continued. "Something I can't talk about right now." She sped through that part, not wanting to touch the rawness of that cut yet. "And my parents are having problems, and Jason was there and I had to deal with him and there was just too much and I haven't had time to process any of it yet. I've been kind of existing today and was looking forward to coming home and collapsing and starting to figure out how to fit all the pieces together. My life is really different all of a sudden. Really different," she underscored. He hadn't moved a muscle or changed his facial expression. He was still nervous. "You have always been constant, Luke. I think I could deal with everything else if I knew that you were going to be there to pick me up and feed me and give me coffee, but I'm worried that if I do something wrong, that will change, too. I couldn't deal with that now. I just need to know that you'll be..." she trailed off, in the end unsure of what she wanted from him - what she wanted him to be and become.

His jaw tightened again, his hands squeezed tight on the steering wheel and he looked like she had kicked him in the teeth. "I'm your friend, Lorelai. First and last. Always." He moved his head to face hers, and said very slowly and clearly as if he was underlining every word, "and I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

She teared up; if she had to stay in this truck much longer she was going to really start crying. She needed air and ground, she needed her house and her bed. She opened the door and got out, then stopped. She needed Luke, too. Needed to know that things were going to be okay, really. She needed stability. Luke was stability; he had always been the one to ground her and divert her and take care of her. She stood in the open door and stared at him. He was staring at the steering wheel again.

"Will you sit with me for a while?" she asked, wanting normalcy, wanting him to sit beside her like he had a hundred times before.

He swung his head to look at her. Whatever he saw in her face made him decide. He nodded. She closed the door and moved to sit on the top step of her porch. The same step he had fixed for her. She ran her fingers over the weathered and familiar wood, realizing that he always tried to fix everything for her.

Luke got out of the truck and approached slowly, almost as if he was readying to bolt at the slightest provocation. After an eternity, he sat down as far from her as possible. Lorelai sighed and scooted over to sit right next to him. She took a deep breath and picked his right hand up. This hand had fixed things for her, had cooked for her, had served her food. This hand had pulled her into him last night. She marveled at its every curve and callous and crease and line. She was studying his hand while he studied her face.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

"Talk about what?" she questioned, running her fingertip over the lines on his palm.

"Any of it?"

She squeezed his hand. "Yes," she said, "but I'm not going to right now." She raised her eyes to stare at the sky. The sun was setting, bleeding color across the heavens. Rory was gone and Luke was here. How had this happened? And why did she feel so okay about it?

"Lorelai," Luke said sometime later.

"Yes?" she asked.

"I'm sorry about last night - on the porch. I shouldn't have...."

"No apologies, Luke," she interrupted. "I did it too and it was fine. It was good - great, even. Its okay. Last night was fine."

Luke smiled, even though she was still not looking at him, and echoed a conversation they'd had years before in a bright and narrow hospital corridor: "good how?"

"What is this, junior high?" she questioned, smiling, remembering the same conversation. She was starting to really relax. Things would be okay. Luke would fix them. She continued, melting into the unexpected playfulness. "It was really, really great. Awesome." And that was the bottom line, as far as that went. He was an amazing kisser; who would have thought it? Instantly, she pushed down the little voice that answered, saying it had always wondered and had always known and wanted to taste him again - the voice that pointed out she had wanted this for far longer than she was willing to admit. Luckily, Luke interrupted this disturbing thought tangent.

"Great how?" he questioned. He was a veritable chatterbox all of a sudden. Lorelai seemed to be coming out of her terrifying stupor, and he wasn't going to lose her again.

"So it is junior high," she retorted, shaking her head at the expression she knew was on his face. He was grinning; she didn't need to see him to know that he was smiling, all proud and happy and amazed, "it was the perfect blend - just like your coffee. Just like I knew it would be." Whoops.

"You thought about it before?" he questioned, his breath hitching as she began to apply firm and steady pressure to his fingers, trying to divert them both.

"What?" she asked, playing dumb.

Luke, however, was a man on a mission. "When did you think about kissing me before?" he repeated slowly and loudly, as if she didn't quite understand English.

She let herself not be afraid for once. She stepped over the line in the sand and told the truth. "I dreamt about it before."

"Really?" he sounded very pleased. "When?"

She enjoyed the fact that he sounded so happy, that she could do that for him by being brave. Time for a little more bravery. "In the dream I told you about the night I had to stay at your house. The night..." she began.

'The night after the fire at the Independence Inn," he interrupted. "I remember. Its not like I have lots of nights or dreams to try and sift through. You only told me you were pregnant. You never said anything about a kiss."

She chuckled, feeling more and more playful and relaxed. This was Luke. Her friend. First and last and always, "and how was I supposed to get pregnant, with twins no less, without kissing you? I'm not Julia Roberts in _Pretty Woman_. I kiss."

Luke blew out a breath, "okay. Not sure about the whole Julia Roberts thing..."

"We have to watch _Pretty Woman_. It's a classic..." she rambled happily.

Luke, however, had an agenda: he had a question he wanted answered. "Lorelai, did you dream the whole," he paused, "conception?"

Lorelai laughed, "God no! I mean we were married in the dream and married people kiss."

He paused for a long time, finally saying "is there anything else about the dream that you left out?"

"That was it. I was woken up by a million alarm clocks. We were married. You hid the coffee. You lectured me on the dangers of caffeine to fetuses. You gave me the coffee. You talked to my belly and you kissed me."

"Kissed you how?"

"A quick little, marital, you're my babies's momma, and you have coffee breath kiss."

"You do have coffee breath," he pointed out, "but I was ready for it." He took a deep breath and his arm tensed. "Was real life better?"

"Stupid question, Luke. Really stupid question," she said, squeezing his hand tightly; he squeezed her hand back. Lorelai took a deep breath and let herself realize that Luke realities were a thousand times better than Luke dreams, Luke kisses were more intoxicating than any other kisses, and Luke's hands were stronger than any other hands. And this moment was better than anything had the right to be.

"Luke?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for covering me up last night."

"You looked cold," he said simply.

She gave a little satisfied sigh and rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes. She had looked cold and he had covered her. She was hungry and he fed her. She was lonely and he loved her. In the end, things could be so simple. She and Luke could be simple. This could work. She opened her eyes again to see that it was dark; the sun had set and the stars were coming out. She had survived the day and she was going to get through this. All of it. And she wasn't going to have to get through it alone.


End file.
